Nurture vs Nature
by Tirya King
Summary: G1. Are ‘junkyard dogs’ born or made? A glimpse at the beginnings of two of the most dangerous and misunderstood mechs ever created.
1. Hard Days Night

Title: Nurture vs. Nature

Author: Tirya King

Category: General/Drama

Timeframe: When the twins are wee pups.

Summary: G1. Are 'junkyard dogs' born or made? A glimpse at the beginnings of two of the most dangerous and misunderstood mechs ever created.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Triggerpinch, Circuitweaver, Triage, Flattop, and any other OC's however are mine.

A/N: Ok, a couple words before we start this fun romp. I know not many are fond of OC's so I'm going to keep their involvement on a necessity basis. The first chapter must unfortunately be choc full of them as our boys are not 'born' yet. This is a Mary Sue free zone so you can take off your hard hats and relax. It focuses on the beginnings of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, so any insight or ideas you may have are more than welcome. I have a vague idea of where this will go, but much of it will be touch and go. Enjoy!

Nurture vs. Nature

Part One: Hard Day's Night

A single light flickered as the stout mech worked on. He paid the sputtering bulb no heed, for his skilled, well-practiced hands could continue working with or without visual aid. And as he continued making adjustments on his newest creation, his young assistant worked silently on the other.

They were nearly finished. It wouldn't be another day before his children would be ready to be given life.

"Circuitweaver," he addressed the pale blue femme working behind him. Her head snapped up in surprise. The engineer rarely ever spoke when he worked. He was so absorbed in what he was doing, it was like she didn't even exist.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, closing a yellow panel and moving on to the next. She knew better than to stop. Her black and navy blue employer had made it clear that in their final hours of work, nothing could allow them to delay or distract.

"Go on home, I'll finish up here."

"Sir?" Now she did stop, laying down her small fuser. "I thought you said we…"

"You've fumbled twice already," he answered, highly displeased with her work. "I need you fully recharged for tomorrow afternoon when I put in their sparks. Grab me a cube of energon and go home."

His dark blue optics stared hard into her light ones. Weaver knew better than to argue with him or try to convince him to recharge as well. When it came to the creation of his children, Triggerpinch seemed to have eternal stores of energy. He wouldn't have fumbled, no matter how exhausted.

Closing the open panels and fusing one last unfinished wire, Circuitweaver did as she was told. The young femme lay his cube on his workbench next to the red fledgling and quietly took her leave.

She doubted he noticed at all, for as she gazed back into the dim workroom, Triggerpinch was hunched back over his child's chestplate, the cube untouched. Transforming into her motorbike form, the blue and white femme sped away, looking forward to a hard-earned recharge and a few cubes of energon.

Contrary to the assistant engineer's belief, Triggerpinch was very much aware of her exit. And he sighed in relief as he heard her squeal away into the night. The young femme tried, he gave her that. She tried hard. But in his line of work, there was no trying. One succeeded or failed. That was all. And at the moment, he couldn't risk his fledglings' birth to a mere girl who couldn't stay awake.

Pinch stepped back for a moment, closing his child's red chestplate. He picked up the cube of energon and sipped it as he walked around the pair laying dormant in their berths. So close. He was so close. A few more megacycles to go and months of work would finally pay off as two pairs of optics shined to life for the first time.

His critical, sharp optics scrutinized every detail of his twin children. The slightest miscalculation could spell ruin for them all. There would be some hiccups for the first week or so, that was to be expected, and he would deal with them as they came. But his initial design must be as flawless as possible to produce maximum results.

After all, it wasn't for the sake of having children that he put forth so much effort after all.

The Primes up at the top would be pleased with his children, Pinch decided with pride. They had commissioned a team of brothers, fierce and powerful, for their warrior division. Recruited civilians and assembly line bots just weren't getting the job done.

An old friend of his from the Engineering Academy, Grapple, had been more than happy to offer his suggestions on the designing process. And he had to admit to his friend's designing instinct as he gazed from one primary colored brother to the other. You wouldn't be able to find a more beautiful pair of brothers. Or a more deadly pair, once their training was complete.

He chuckled to himself, taking another sip. His optics traced the lines of his children's faces. Their enemies would be slain by angels, it seemed. They wouldn't even see it coming.

Triggerpinch walked between them, continuing his mental inventory of what else needed to be done. Occasionally he adjusted something obvious that couldn't wait. A screw here. A joint clip there. They would stand at least two or three heads taller than he, and with enough power to take out someone twice their size. Weapons he would install later after preliminary rearing and training was complete. It was not wise to give firearms to an infant too inexperienced to know better.

Traces of their Creator could be found here and there on the twins. As artists put themselves in their work and organic beings passed genes to their progeny, so did Transformers often pass down traits of themselves to their creations. The yellow child had Pinch's chestplate likeness, as well as shin design and audio panels. The red one's basic head design took after his Creator too as did most of his basic structure.

In gratitude for her help in getting the commission, Pinch had allowed Circuitweaver, the progeny of one of the higher Primes, to add a bit of herself to the twins as well. A high honor to one who wasn't the registered Creator. The yellow one's face had a distant resemblance to the pretty femme's. And when the scarlet brother smiled, Pinch had no doubt it would be with her mischievous tilt. The shade of their optics, instead of a deep blue like their Creator's would instead reflect the pale glacier ice of her own plating.

He finished off the cube of energon, tossing it aside carelessly. "Now then, little ones," he addressed the prone twins. "Let's see what else you need." Grabbing a few more tools, he moved on to the red child.

"That girl," he cursed quietly as he inspected inside his chest. "Had I activated you as she left you, you'd have self-destructed on the spot. And your brother… just this morning I stopped her from connecting his circuitry wrong. You wouldn't even have a brother if I hadn't been there."

Reconnecting the wires correctly, he quickly fell back into the rhythm he had before. The megacycles swiftly flew by as each connection or adjustment brought him that much closer to completion.

The first of Cybertron's dual suns had just peeked over the horizon when Triggerpinch finally put away his tools. Exhausted, but thoroughly delighted with himself, the engineer collapsed into a chair near the feet of his red child.

"Well, my little ones," Pinch sighed. "That's it. Today is the moment of truth. Where we make or break all."

Until then, however, he could not afford to waste time recharging. Not just yet.

"Flattop," he called, pressing his communiqué button at his computer. "Flattop, respond."

There was no answer right away, dispelling the good mood he was in. Where was the boy? Before he could grow more irritated, a sleepy voice finally chimed in. "Flattop here. Who is it?" Then a muffled yawn.

"It's Triggerpinch, you scrap pile. Why aren't you here?"

"Nice to hear from you too, Pinch," his eldest progeny returned, the harsh words not even phasing him. He had been online long enough to blow them aside as the billows of hot steam they were.

"Don't give me that. Where is my print out you were supposed to pick up for me?" He barked out. He knew the young Intelligence officer was better than this. He did build him after all.

"Don't you know what fragging time it is?" Flattop asked incredulously. When his Creator didn't answer, having truly not realized that not everyone commonly pulled all-nighters, the navy blue and red fledgling sighed. "No, of course you don't. So how are my baby brothers coming along?"

Pinch fought the urge to yell at his eldest who was apparently awake enough to show cheek. "The new _commissions_ are completely built. But I can't insert their sparks until I receive the print out of the government permit. The permit _you_ were supposed to bring me!"

"Look, Pinch, I'll have your permit; don't get your servos in a twist. For now, though, this pup needs his sleep."

"Flattop, don't you dare hang up on…"

"Wake me when the second sun is all the way up, not a nanoclick before. Flattop out."

"That insolent little…" he shut off the comm. angrily and stood up. Well, there was nothing to be done now that construction was complete and his eldest decided to be his usual lazy self. He may as well head off to recharge for a few megacycles before Circuitweaver arrived to help prep the two sparks held in their electromagnetic field containers.

OoOoOo

Flattop rapped on the door again in annoyance. The dual suns were directly overhead and for some reason his Creator had not only not woken him up, but now he wasn't answering his door.

"Maybe he's recharging?" suggested the short femme next to him, shrugging.

"That mech? Please," the Intell. officer snorted. "I'd be surprised if he even had a recharge berth at all."

She smiled indulgently. "He has to sometime, you know. And he's been overworking himself for weeks now. You know how he gets when he's into a new project."

The screech of tires cut their conversation off. Circuitweaver transformed, looking cautiously from one newcomer to the other. Both progenies of her employer and neither expected.

"Circuitweaver," Flattop greeted evenly, nodding his head in acknowledgement. He had briefly met his Creator's newest assistant once, and he'd heard enough about her. She was flighty and still too raw from the Engineering Academy, Pinch had told him, and tolerated only for the high connections she brought him.

"Flattop," she nodded. "Triage. Is Triggerpinch not in?"

"He's not answering," said the small white and yellow femme at Flattop's side. "Today is the day, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Circuitweaver answered coming closer. "I wonder where he could be."

"Well, let's find out," the blue and red mech decided. Overriding his Creator's door lock, he forced his way into the small apartment that doubled as Pinch's work place.

Triage looked at the elder mech with amusement. "He said he'd deactivate you if you did that again," she pointed out.

The young Intelligence officer waved it off uncaring. "He says a lot of things. So, where are our baby brothers?" he asked of the engineer assistant.

Weaver wondered at his odd terminology before remembering her employer mentioning that his eldest spent a lot of time working with organics. No doubt he had picked up some phrases here and there.

"In the back work bay," she answered leading the way. There was still no sign of Triggerpinch and it had her slightly worried. There were many who would like to get a hold of the two commissioned bots and Pinch wasn't known for his alertness nor his combat skills. He'd stand little chance against an aggressor.

Everything in the work area seemed normal enough, even the two new mechs were untouched. Both lay in completion with their sparks waiting in electromagnetic fields for Triggerpinch to place them into their bodies for the first time. Yet something was wrong with one, it kept flickering unhealthily and darkening to dark blues and browns. Triage moved forward to inspect the sickly spark in alarm. "Flattop…" she called over to her elder.

"What is it, Tri?" he asked, coming up to stand next to the apprentice medic.

"This one isn't functioning properly. Look."

"Oh, Primus," he breathed. "Pinch isn't gonna be happy 'bout this."

"I'm not going to be happy about what?" the engineer himself walked in at the sound of his name.

"Sir," Circuitweaver greeted jumping slightly, startled. She had been appraising the completed fledglings, unwilling to touch anything lest she do something by accident. "Where were you? We were calling for you…"

"Can't a mech recharge for a megacycle without being interrogated for it?" he growled crankily. The extra sleep seemed to have done nothing for his mood. "What aren't I going to be happy about, Flattop?"

"This spark," his eldest motioned. "Looks like Vector Sigma spat out a bad one."

"What?" Triggerpinch demanded, rushing over to see the sickly spark sputter. "Well don't just stand there, you two! Help me!" He dislodged the spark to put in its own field so it wouldn't affect the healthy one.

"But what can we do?" Triage asked her Creator.

"You're a medic, aren't you?" he demanded.

"We haven't learned anything about sparks yet," she shook her pale golden head in distress. "Only superficial things."

"Well you can damn well do better than Flattop here. Now get over here and help. You, make room."

Bristling in indignation, the young Intell officer stepped back and allowed his younger sister to take his place next to Pinch. She did as she was told, but looked completely lost. As this all was happening, the wounded spark flickered more and more helplessly, threatening to give out any nanoclick. Together, the veteran engineer and medical student worked to bring it back from death.

Boosting it with another electrical jolt, Pinch quickly talked things through with his youngest, explaining all he knew about sparks. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to gain confidence which was what he hoped for. For all his harshness toward his creations, Triggerpinch was most patient with Triage. She was the only one he created purely for himself. Flattop was created as a favor to a friend in the military. There had been a shortage in Intelligence officers and he had asked if Triggerpinch wouldn't mind making one for him. Custom-made bots rather than assembly line were always preferable and usually in short supply.

Triage, however, he made simply to have another intelligent mind to talk with. During her time as an infant, the young femme was taught nearly everything her Creator knew. She was eager to learn all he had to offer, causing her to get into one of the finest medical schools on the planet at an age younger than most. Eventually she too left him to pursue her own life, but of Triggerpinch's two children, she was the undisputed favorite.

Nothing the pair tried seemed to work as the cycles wore on. Even when Circuitweaver and Flattop edged in to offer their assistance, the sickly spark continued to flicker with greater intensity. They were losing it and there was nothing they could do.

"Sir," the blue femme ventured. "I don't think we can…"

"Quiet!" he snapped, reaching over to jolt it again. "It'll be fine."

"Pinch," Triage shook her head gently. She let go of the influx controls at last and put an ivory hand on her Creator's arm. He would listen to her. "She's right, it's gone. There's nothing we can do."

Flattop said nothing, waiting for the engineer to give further orders. His dark blue optics were fixed on the spark as it sputtered its last and finally died.

**End Part One**

**A/N:** Well, I've talked about ol' Pinch a few times before, now we get to see him in action. The next chapter will have the twins in it. Once again, if you have any thoughts on how newborn TF's (especially those two) should be, I would appreciate hearing them. I basically know where it's going, but I'm open to new ideas to work on when I leave. Oh btw, in case anyone was wondering, I have a teaching position at a summer camp starting the 26th that will last about 9 weeks. There aren't any computers there so I have to write by hand and update when I get back.


	2. For I Have Created Life

A/N: Here is the next part of what may become a behemoth in the future. This and one other chapter for 'Grunt's Guide' will be my last set of posts before I leave. Have a great summer everyone, I'll see you in 9 weeks!

Part Two: For I Have Created Life

The room was silent as the dead spark faded to a dark gray, evaporating back into the Matrix from whence it came not a day ago. Such a life was never meant to be lived. Never to be used for the purpose it was created with.

When the last of the spark's light faded, the blue and red mech looked over to his Creator hesitantly, not sure what to expect. An outburst at least. Or perhaps a fit of violence that may very well destroy the infants not yet born. To his surprise and increasing concern, the old engineer was silent and still, harsh navy blue optics clouded with something.

Suddenly those old optics shot over to the one spark remaining. It shone bright and healthy, as though to show them just how alive it truly was. How superior it was to its companion.

The others also looked at the lone spark and then at each other. What was he thinking? His permit only allowed for two sparks to be given to him and that couldn't be changed. Every Cybertronian ever created off away from the assembly line was given to their Creator through a very rigorous process. It was how the government controlled the population as well as keep an optic on what bots were where. Two sparks meant two sparks. There would be no more.

"Triage, do you have your tools with you?" Triggerpinch asked, still staring at the spark that pulsed so strongly. He knew she did.

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Get them ready. It's time you learned how fledglings are made."

"What are you going to do?" Flattop asked nervously. He didn't like how his Creator eyed that one last spark.

"I'm going to make myself another spark."

"What? How?" He looked at the spark again and then back to Triggerpinch. "Slag no! You'll kill it! It can't be done!"

"It can be done with the right mech doing it. I've seen it done. One spark is worthless to me, you know that. I have two mechs in those berths, not one! Either they come online together or not at all. Triage, come with me."

"But Pinch…" she had summoned her tools from subspace but held them to her chest, not knowing what to do. She respected her Creator, but her brother was one of her best friends. If he was nervous about this, it needed addressing. Circuitweaver only stood back, unwilling to challenge either Flattop or her employer.

"Triage!" the elder mech snapped impatiently. "Come."

Shooting an apologetic smile to her brother, the small femme did as she was told. One of her instructors at the medical school, Ratchet, had explained to the class that one spark could become two under certain circumstances. Sometimes it was spontaneous, sometimes it was done purposely. While 90 of these sparks died within megacycles of the split, some did survive. The mechs who had these sparks were considered special as they were so rare. Special, but notably unstable. Many who survived the procedure went insane.

"Pay attention, girl," Pinch ordered gruffly as he made the field levitating the spark as small as possible so he could get at it. "I need you to focus or they'll die."

She nodded her golden head, opening the case of tools and placing them on the table. "What do I need to do?"

OoOoOo

Circuitweaver watched the two work with sheer amazement. She had heard of mechs actually splitting a spark to create two, but never had she seen it done. Triage did most of the actual work, having smaller hands than her Creator. However inexperienced she might be, the gold and white femme sliced and stabilized as though she'd done it a thousand times. The only sound in the room was Triggerpinch's low commanding voice as he instructed his youngest.

She could never hope to be that good being as clumsy as she was. Contrary to her boss's belief, the blue femme was actually quite sharp if a bit unsure about herself. And she knew that the only reason he put up with her mistakes was because her Creator was so high up in the chain of command. Seeing his own fledglings beside him, acting as they did, Weaver knew that he was a hard mech to know. He tolerated only perfection and she was a far cry from that.

Flattop beside her was stiff as he eyed his sister and Creator carefully. He didn't agree with what they were doing, but he couldn't stop them and he knew it. No one went against Triggerpinch when he was determined and he knew that very well. The sparks were, technically, the engineer's to do with as he pleased now that they'd been issued. If he wanted to ruin his commission, Flattop wasn't going to stand in his way.

Yet, as he watched, he could see no problems occurring. By now the spark should be decomposing or growing unstable as its electrons were literally being pulled apart. Either this spark truly did want to prove it was stronger than its companion or his little sister was one of the best medics on the planet. Remembering her botched job on his arm a few months ago, he figured it was more the former than the latter.

Whatever would come of these twins being created, the Intelligence officer hoped the planet would be ready.

His wings twitched as the final cut was made and Triage gently used the electromagnetic field to pull the two halves apart. Warping themselves, the two halves pulled their nuclei inwards to protect it from the outside environment. Soon there were two sparks shining brightly where there once was one.

It was done. The two dormant mechs in the berths would become twins in every sense of the word now.

Triggerpinch said nothing for a moment, patting his golden child's back once before moving to sit. Meanwhile, she put down her scalpel staring at the two sparks as though she'd never seen anything so beautiful before, a tired smile lighting her face. The medic rubbed her white chevron, shaped like a spear-tip, to ease the tension in her head. She'd done it. She'd used every scrap of knowledge from her mere 500 years of experience and she'd done it.

"Should we insert the sparks now?" Circuitweaver asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Pinch looked at her, annoyed that she ruined this precious moment. "Flattop, go prepare the laser cores for insertion. Triage, check the sparks' vitals; we don't want them to blow up on us. Circuitweaver…" he looked at her eager face and sighed. "Just stay the slag away from anything you might screw up."

She took a step back, indignant, but entirely used to his less than acceptable manners. And besides, he had a point. Weaver's job was finished; she'd helped in the creation of the two infants and she'd been the optics and audios for her Creator to make sure every bit of the commission was followed through on.

Flattop was raised to join the Intelligence field but being the fledgling of an engineer had given him a certain level of authority on the subject. As he opened his little brothers' chestplates to get at their laser cores, he could see the level of care and expertise that had gone into their creation. Being Pinch's first creation, he was the most simplistic in make. His sister was a bit more complex as Pinch had gained more knowledge on what to do and what not to do when making a new bot. But these two… yes, the Primes would indeed be pleased, but he pitied the poor bot who would have to fix these two up if they were ever hurt. They would have their work cut out for them.

"They're ready," he reported when he was done opening all the valves.

"Good." Pinch enclosed one shimmering spark into a portable field and brought it to the red child. Opening it over the laser core, he waited for the spark to do the rest.

Once it was settled, he went to get the other, inserting it into the other child. "Close the valves and shut the chestplate," he ordered Circuitweaver who was the closest to the red infant. She smiled and moved to do so. Since she had worked on this one more than the other, she had grown an affinity to him and was pleased to be the one to help activate him. With maternal care, she secured the valves of the laser core and closed him up for one last time.

Triggerpinch secured his infant's new spark and shut the chestplate, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders. Whatever happened now, he had done everything in his power to grant them life. Now it was up to them on whether or not to take this gift.

"Stand back," he told everyone. With the split in the spark, there was no telling what might happen next.

The four mechs could visibly see it as the sparks activated circuit and switches, bringing both children online for the first time. Their intakes started up, bringing in cool air to their systems. A finger twitched, a mouth, a foot…

And then their optics finally activated.

Flattop had been there for the 'birth' of his sister, and a few others besides. But he never got tired of seeing fledglings take their first glimpse of the world. During his time spent with the organics called the Kikri on Reshim III, he'd been amazed by the total dependency of the newborn pups to their parents. Even the dominant species on the planet were entirely helpless at birth. The young mech had scoffed then, glad that Cybertronian sparklings weren't so weak.

But as the twins sat up slowly, looking at each other, at the four of them, and at the workroom, Flattop knew that these young bots were just as dependent as any organic baby. He shot a glance to the impatient Triggerpinch. Just as needy for their creator's love. Perhaps more dependent than organics as they were built with knowledge already inside them. They knew language and history and what affection was.

The red one spoke first, in a soft hesitant voice that was smooth and light. "Hello," he greeted his twin, eyeing the yellow fledgling as though not sure what to make of him.

"Hi," his brother responded in an equally smooth but richer voice. He turned to their audience, seeming to bunch in on himself though not a servo moved. Defensive already of those he didn't know. "Who are you?" he asked no one in particular.

Sending a warning glare to the others to remain still, the old engineer stepped forward addressing both at once. "My name is Triggerpinch and I am your Creator. Come with me."

The twins looked at him as though he were mad. What was going on? Why did they have go with him?

"Come," he repeated in a harder tone. They might be bigger and they might be less than a cycle old, but by Primus they would be obedient. Soldiers like them had to be.

It was the red twin again who moved first. His light blue optics shined with a natural curiosity while his brother remained where he was. He saw no reason to move just because some short angry mech ordered him to. Triggerpinch led the way to another room, not paying attention to the child left behind. He knew he would follow. His spark was too newly severed to withstand being so apart from its other half. It would be a natural urge now to stay as close to his brother as possible.

It was a drive Pinch planned to use to his advantage.

Sure enough, the red twin hadn't gone ten feet before his brother stood up and followed. He gave one last cautious glance at the siblings and young engineering assistant, and disappeared around the corner.

Triggerpinch led them out of the work bay, past the apartment's entrance, and into a hallway with 4 doors. Each one led to a room, one of which being Pinch's own. Two used to belong to his fledglings before they left his home. The last one was for his new children.

"Get inside," he ordered, opening the door to their room. It was barren except for two recharge booths. They needed no forms of entertainment just yet, not while he had to focus on rearing them properly.

The red one's curiosity gave way to wariness. He didn't understand and the yellow bot looked as though he didn't want to comply either. "I… we… we need to talk to you," the red one said, light optics shining in question. "Please."

"We have to know some things," the yellow one finished in a stronger voice.

They were already speaking for each other? Good.

"I am your Creator and I am here to raise you to be the perfect warrior team. For the moment that is all you need to know," Pinch said with a calmness he didn't feel. It had been a long time, too long, since he'd had to deal with newborns. Always questioning. Always wanting to know why and how and what…

"But…" the red one interrupted.

"In." His darker optics narrowed as he pointed to the room. "You know very well that you must obey me as you are my creations. Your first lesson begins now: you were created together and that is how you must stay. Now get in, we will work on obedience later."

The twins looked at each other, not really understanding, but mutually deciding to do as they were told for the moment. There was no harm in it and the limited knowledge they were programmed with told them that the black and blue mech wouldn't allow any harm to come to them. He was their Creator and that meant he would take care of them until they were old enough to do it themselves. For now all they could do was trust that this was true.

As soon as they were in, Pinch shut the door and locked it. The first lesson began now.

He made his way back to the workroom to clean up all the equipment and prepare a report to send in. The government department in charge of population control needed to know that his creations had been activated.

"You're still here?" he asked of the three mechs when he entered. The show was over and he had no more use for them.

"What, no birthday party for my little brothers?" Flattop teased. Triage smiled and shook her head. That mech loved to butt heads with their Creator, it was a wonder he hadn't been deactivated by now.

"You," Pinch growled in annoyance. "Need to stay away from your organic friends. I'm here to raise two killers, not maintenance droids. The party can come after they make it out of the Academy."

"You're not going to just leave them in that room, are you, Sir?" Circuitweaver asked in concern. Surely it couldn't do any good for two brand new sparklings to be locked away so soon. They needed a gentle introduction to this world and it looked like Pinch would do no such thing.

"They need to rely on each other, not us," the engineer responded. "Flattop, give me that permit you picked up for me."

His eldest did so, following him to the computer. "What'll we call them till the ten days are up?" Flattop asked. "The usual?"

Pinch paused in writing the report, giving it some thought. For the first ten days of life, an infant was not given their true name unless situations dictated otherwise. It made it easier for the Creator if something went wrong and it died. Pinch did this as the initial ten days would give him a better idea one what to name them. After the government representative was done inspecting the fledglings, he would name them properly.

But until then, what should he call them?

For siblings born at the same time, the Creators generally gave them designations of alpha, beta, and so on or numbers. However, Pinch decidedly didn't want to do this with them, they had to be equal in every way. Giving one the initial name of Alpha or Number One would create a rift that he couldn't risk so soon after their birth.

"Yellow and Red," he answered. His other children and Circuitweaver gave him an odd look, but didn't speak against the uncommon designations. He knew what he was doing as he constantly reminded them.

"You know our numbers if you need anything," Triage said by way of parting. Her Creator grunted in acknowledgement as he typed, but gave no other indication that he'd heard her. Flattop just waved goodbye at his back and followed his sister to escort her home.

Circuitweaver finished putting away the last electromagnetic unit and turned to face her employer who was still writing his report. "They will have enough energon while they're in that room?" she asked tentatively. The blue femme knew better than to question his judgment, but her maternal side had to do it. They were too young and innocent to be mistreated by him.

"They are your Creator's commissions," Triggerpinch snarled, turning around. He didn't need some little upstart telling him how to raise his creations. "I'm not about to ruin them. Not for the amount of money he's paying me. Go home, Circuitweaver, I'll call if I require assistance."

She sighed, but nevertheless did as she was told, leaving Yellow and Red to whatever fate the belligerent engineer had in mind. Poor things, not a day old and already having to face being his fledglings. If they weren't built to take such harsh treatment, she'd feel very sorry for them indeed.

OoOoOo

Two young mechs sat on their berths silently. Occasionally they would look at each other, but often they would stare anywhere but at their sibling. Neither made to sit still, the megacycles spent in the room was beginning to wear on them. Red's right leg started vibrating on its own and he looked ready to explode. His yellow twin didn't fidget as he did, but instead conserved all the excess energy inside so that if he did let it out, it would be a great explosion.

They contemplated the lesson their Creator gave them to learn. How they were supposed to do so, he didn't say. Only that they were to 'stay together.' They _were_ together, it didn't make sense!

Finally the red twin couldn't take it anymore and stood up, his brother watching curiously as he paced up and down. Making fists and releasing them, Red was a bundle of energy that he couldn't release. He needed to run, to yell, to do… something. Anything. He couldn't take it anymore; it was so like being a caged animal on display.

"You ok?" Yellow asked, amazed at the sudden frantic movements of the bot across the room from him. Something urged him to stand, to ease the other's nerves. Having only his instincts to heed, as their Creator had dumped them here alone, he did just that. Within 3 easy steps, he was in front of Red who was beginning to shake all over. "Hey, calm down," he said. "You're making me nervous."

"I can't help it," Red responded, looking at the walls around him. "I don't like being in here anymore. I want to leave."

Yellow nodded his understanding. "Me too. It's too small." Moving around only made the space seem smaller so he was content in staying in one spot. Apparently his companion didn't share this view. He placed his golden hands on his brother's shoulders soothingly. "Come on. Relax."

"Brother?" the other whispered as though not quite sure of what he was saying. But it made sense. This other sparkling, so like him, who _felt_ so like him, was his brother. His twin brother.

Of course their databanks could tell them what a brother was. Could give them all the scientific, social, and legal definitions of 'brother,' but that wasn't what he thought of what he considered this yellow mech. That wasn't what he felt. There was no way to explain it, at least not for a little child such as himself, but he knew it was true all the same.

"Brother," Yellow nodded. He too knew that the word fit. And he knew if they were going to survive these odd circumstances, they had to stick together. When his newfound brother still didn't cease his nervous movements, he drew him into a tight embrace, touching his forehead with his own. Willing him to calm down before he too began to panic.

The physical touch seemed to do what words and light contact couldn't and Red finally stilled all movement, sagging against the other. They stayed like that for a few cycles, taking comfort in each other's presence. After a while, they sat back down on Red's berth together just talking about anything they could think of. Being only just activated, the list of things to discuss was not very long, but it kept them from thinking of the small room. The sound of the other's voice was calming and it didn't matter what was said after that.

**End Part Two**

**A/N:** I wasn't actually going to put out another chapter before I left, but I was a bit inspired to do it. Please tell me what you think, all your comments from last time were fantastic and a big help! I realize that if I fudge this up, it would be a bad bad thing, so forgive me if I seem a bit cautious about doing this right : ) I just want to be able to account for their personality quirks properly. The next chapter will have the twins running around in diapers (so to speak) as Pinch gets down to raising them to be proper fighters. Eventually we'll see Ratchet-sensei and some others, but not for a while ; )

**A/N2:** Just a quick note for anyone who was wondering since I had someone ask me. A 'triage' is actually a medical procedure in which a patient is looked over quickly by a doctor to determine what they might need before going into an operation. (Yes, I've been watching MASH way too much lately.) It's basically a pre-op procedure. A 'flattop' is the name of the area outside a hangar where the planes hang out while not flying. It's a 'flat top' : )

**Reviews!**

MariaShadow: Yup, this is Pinch : ) Charming little fellow, isn't he? As we go, he'll make Ratchet look like a tame puppy. Thank you, the characterization was rather hard to do for this one because I wanted them to feel like they could actually be a part of the universe. I'll try my best, though I may come out looking like Sunny at the orphanage!

Trueborn Chaos: Thank you, I was worried that they wouldn't be well-received. It seems like if OC's are shown frequently, there's a stigma that comes with them. I'm glad you liked them. Thanks for your ideas by the way, they're really helpful. The quirks that will eventually make up their personalities will be taking more shape in the next chapter. Like the title insinuates, I have to find a balance between what Pinch actually creates and what is already there : )

Tiamat1972: Lol, oh his vanity is a definite must! Can't have this be entirely serious ; ) And besides, it shapes who he is as a person, so it has to come in somewhere, right? That's a good idea, now to track down some of my mother's old baby books…

Soundwave's Idol: Thanks, I'm glad you like it : ) And here's the next part as promised for your viewing pleasure!

DesertCat87: I like to try things other people haven't before, I'm so glad you think I pulled it off. The commission idea was just something I went with, not really knowing how it would work out. If an employer, or whatever, is looking for a special kind of bot, it seems like an easy way to get what they want. Build-a-baby gone extreme! Thank you for your comments : )


	3. Orientation

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to MariaShadow for giving me a good kick in the skidplate when I needed it, and to DesertCat87 who listens to me ramble on and on much too often to be healthy.

Part Three: Orientation

It would be another day before Triggerpinch came to release his children from their room. Weak from lack of energon, the twins slumped against the wall, optics dimly lit. Their shoulders brushed each other's, but other than that, there was no physical contact between them.

At the sound of the door hissing open, Yellow groggily looked toward his Creator. Too slow even for a weakened bot. They would have to work on that. "Get up," he ordered.

"Hm?" Red stirred.

Unwilling to repeat himself, the engineer just stood there, waiting impatiently for the two fledglings to become aware of themselves. "Now!"

As one they stood up next to each other, staring warily at the shorter mech who watched them in return. Looking for anything that might need repairing. Every child had its hiccups and the task now was to find theirs so he could fix it before the 10 days were up. "From now until I name you properly, you," he pointed to the red sparkling, "are Red. And you," to the other, "are Yellow. You will answer to those designations until I say otherwise, and you will obey me always. Understand?"

They nodded. He was their creator and they knew he was all they had to introduce them to this strange new world. They had found a link with each other. Maybe there could be one with Triggerpinch as well.

The engineer, however, had no wish to get all soft and paternal on this pair. Like he told Flattop: these were killers born and bred. It's what the Primes paid for and it's what the Primes would get. Taking out two identical discs, he attached one each to his children, locking them in place on their chest. They weren't quite willing to let him do this, but one frosty glare stilled the twins.

"I want you to understand this right now," he said. "From this moment on, you are in training to become the best frontline team in the Autobot army. 10 days from now you will be inspected and then named. That's when the more intense work begins. But before then, we have a lot of work to do."

"What did you put on us?" Red asked touching the disc. He hissed and drew his hand away when it gave him a sharp shock.

"That is Lesson #2." Pinch replied. "You are tall and strong and by the time I'm done with you, you will have the ability to rip me limp from limb without effort or remorse. Very often, your height and strength will be all you'll need. However, no matter how strong or skilled or tall you may be, never assume you will win. I am not without my defenses and in battle you will be up against bots much older and more experienced than you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yellow cocked his head to the side. He didn't like all this flowery language. For an impatient mech, Pinch sure liked to dance around the point.

"It means, little one, that if I wish, I can bring you down." Triggerpinch activated the disc on both fledglings' chests. The effect this had was that is sent an electrical wave through their bodies, seizing up their circuits and paralyzing them entirely.

Triggerpinch walked closer to the twins, entering their personal space to purposely make them uncomfortable. Though they couldn't even move their faces into an expression, he could tell it was working. "This bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked, though he knew the answer. "Being so helpless. By the time I'm done with you, you will have the power to remove the disc. But until then, you are my property. Your arms and legs are _my_ arms and legs. And I want my limbs strong."

The hold was released and while both sparklings regarded Triggerpinch with new apprehension, neither backed away for more space. Good.

"Every time the government allows someone to create their own fledgling, the creator gets a set of programs and lessons to go with it." He held up a series of new discs and frowned. "A necessary evil as these are all pointless pieces of slag. You are supposed to finish them in ten days. I give you five. Now come."

He started to walk, Red about to follow. Yellow put a halting hand on his brother's shoulder and stood his ground. "Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" Pinch asked, stopping but not turning around.

"Why five when we have ten?"

"Since when do I explain myself to _you_?" the engineer demanded, still showing his child his back.

"It's not enough time." He'd seen the size of that pile and what limited knowledge he was born with told him they were given all ten days for a reason.

"Then you'd do best to shut your damn mouth and follow me so you can get started, wouldn't you?" Some of his peers would have thought it was wonderful to have such inquisitive and sharp fledglings. Triggerpinch didn't want inquisitive, he wanted obedient. His words were harsh as he glared up at his bold child.

Red didn't like the way Triggerpinch spoke to his brother, even if he was their creator. And he didn't like the look of hurt on poor Yellow's face for asking a simple question. But what could he possibly do about it? If he tried to defend Yellow, he himself would only make the situation worse. And if he sided with Pinch, he would alienate his fellow fledgling with whom he was created.

So he did nothing.

When Triggerpinch began moving again, both children reluctantly followed. Yellow shot a hurt questioning look in his brother's direction that Red did not return, instead staring straight ahead.

The room the twins were put in was even smaller than their sleeping quarters. There was a table in the middle upon which sat 11 cubes of energon. On opposite sides of the room were two computer consoles and chairs. One console looked as though it had been recently installed. It seemed to have been put in specifically for this task.

"I will see you in five days," was the engineer's parting farewell before the twins were shut in. Before the sound of his footsteps got too faint, he called back, "while you are completing the discs, and contemplating your second lesson, you must always remember the first. We will be returning into it later."

And then he was gone.

Yellow and Red stood there for a moment, unsure about their new surroundings. Immediately they felt the smallness of the room bearing down on them, making them tight and on edge. Yet as they looked again at the cubes of energon, they felt the pangs of hunger even more. They were tired and cranky and they knew that drinking the energon would go a long way to cure both.

The golden twin moved first to seat himself at the table, not once glancing at his brother who hadn't come to his aid.

Red felt the other's anger as though it were his own and frowned. "Yellow…"

"Don't call me that!" Yellow snapped, picking up a cube with violent force.

"Why not?" Red asked much quieter, knowing he was in the wrong.

"It's not my name, that's why."

"But we don't have names yet. Our creator said we won't get them for another ten days."

"I don't care." He sipped at the energon, too worked up to feel its strengthening effects on his young body.

Red came and sat down opposite his twin. "Well I can't just call you 'brother' the whole time, can I?" he tried for humor, feeling the seriousness of the other too unbearable.

Yellow snorted into his drink. "No. _My _brother would've stuck up for me."

"Look, you, there's no reason for our creator to get mad at me too. I was just…"

"Just being a slagging coward, that's what!" Yellow crushed the empty cube easily and stared hard at his equally angry twin.

"Don't call me a coward!" Red hollered, slamming both hands on the table, making the cubes jump and fizzle dangerously.

"Well what else do you call a…" the golden twin's body suddenly sized up as the disc on his chest activated. From the sudden gasp from Red, he could guess the other disc had been switched on as well. Obviously Pinch was watching them and didn't approve of this shouting match.

Cycles went by and still every circuit, servo, and system in the twins' bodies remained frozen. Pinch was right. Yellow _did_ hate this feeling of helplessness. He wished with all his might that he was already powerful enough to throw off the disc's effects. Out of the corner of his optics, Yellow could see the door they entered in from the hallway. If anyone or thing came in through it now, they would have both sparklings at their mercy. There was no reason to think this; logically nothing that could harm them would enter.

But try forcing logic on a frightened newborn.

Because he knew that if something did enter to cause harm, he would be unable to protect his brother or himself. They'd be dead, and while newborns understood little of death, he knew it was bad and it was forever, and it would mean he'd no longer _be_.

So he just endured it, as he had to.

And he watched that door.

When the hold on the pair was finally released, all the anger Yellow had for his brother was long gone. Entirely drained, he sank into his chair while Red leaned against the wall.

Red looked over to his brother who stared back with wide, frightened optics. They could see the other's fear just as they felt their own. As they had felt each other's anger before. Triggerpinch could have found no better weapon to restrain his powerful children.

Yellow moved first, slowly making his way to the nearest computer console. They had five days to complete their orientation discs. If they didn't get started soon, they would never finish on time. And if they didn't finish on time, Triggerpinch may punish them again; perhaps he would paralyze them even longer. Yellow didn't think he could bear feeling so helpless again.

The discs weren't easy to complete. Pinch certainly hadn't created stupid mechs by any means, yet the designers of the discs had intended the creators to help their infants through it all. Every broad subject that all Autobots should know were on these little cds. History, religion, literature, science, language, and law… it was all on there. They weren't yet one full day old, how did Pinch expect them to do this on their own?

A megacycle went by. Then two. Yellow limped through the lessons at a pace he knew was less than satisfactory. Looking over his shoulder he could see that Red wasn't doing much better, but he did seem to be ahead slightly. Perhaps he should ask for help?

No, he set his jaw and turned back around to face his screen. He didn't need his brother's help in anything. He was still mad at the red fledgling for abandoning him, even if it was only briefly. So he would leave Red too if it came to that. The young bot didn't care what Pinch said about slagging 'lessons'; he needed no one but himself. If he was going to survive his first year of life, he had to look out for himself. And that meant he had to complete the discs on his own. Narrowing his optics, Yellow went through the next lesson, working on speed now rather than retaining any sort of information.

The first day passed like this. As did the second and third. The only time the twins weren't facing a computer screen was when they had their allotted two energon cubes a day. Even then they did not speak to the other; barely even looked at the other. No peace had been made between them and both were too stubborn to try.

By the middle of the fifth day, both infants were strung so tight that they were on the verge of snapping. No one was meant to go through 10 discs in 5 days, and certainly not by themselves. But get through them they did. All the motivation they needed was the memory being locked into place, weak and helpless. Not that they remembered any of what the discs were covering, of course.

Red sighed as he completed the last of the discs. Leaning back in his chair, the infant felt a great weight lift off his shoulders knowing that he was done at last. Sparing a glance at his brother, he could see that he was not yet finished, though it probably wouldn't take him that much longer. But by his hunched shoulders and half-dimmed optics, the yellow twin looked just about as tired as Red felt.

Time for some energon then.

Reaching over, the young one saw that only one cube remained. They had had two cubes each that day, leaving a sole cube left. Risking another glace at his brother, Red saw that he was not paying any attention. The cube was his then. It wasn't as though Yellow were reaching for it anyway. Just as his ebony fingers touched the cool container, Yellow turned around to see why all the typing had stopped on the other end of the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked of Red, seeing him go for the last cube of energon.

"Nothing," his twin answered innocently.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing.' Looks like you're swiping the last cube for yourself." Yellow turned his chair all the way around to face his brother fully. "Were you even gonna ask if I wanted any?"

That self-righteous little… "Since you weren't going for it, obviously you didn't want it."

"Oh, so now you can read my mind now?" Yellow narrowed his optics.

"Look, slag off, will you? You only want it now cause I want it." He cradled it in his hands as though his brother were going to physically take it from him. "Besides, I'm low on energy and I need it."

Not that Yellow wasn't tempted to take it. He'd had enough of this red slagger and all the trouble he caused.

"I had the same amount of energon that you did. So that makes me need it just as much. But of course you don't care. You'll steal from me just like you'll backstab me?"

Red didn't pay any attention to the hurt look on his brother's face. If he'd wanted the cube he should have gotten it before he did. It was only fair. "Look, I got it first, so why don't you just go back and finish your discs. I already did _mine_."

Oh that was it.

Yellow lunged for the other before Red even knew what was happening. The days of stress and rationing had done its damage to both young mechs. They were now too strained to try reigning in their anger and too exhausted to do much besides knock each other around. Their larger than average sizes quickly made the room seem much smaller than it was as they both wrestled for the cube held between them. Their need to survive overrode what affection they felt for the one activated alongside them.

Triggerpinch had introduced them to an unfair and hostile environment. What better way to react than by being hostile in return?

Unstable as it was from being jostled back and forth, the cube of energon reached its limit when it slid from young, fumbling hands. It exploded at the children's feet, knocking them both back against opposite walls.

The last thing Red saw before blacking out was his brother sliding unconscious to the floor in front of him. Vaguely he wondered if he was alright…

OoOoOo

When the scarlet fledgling activated his optics next, it was to see a room he had not been in yet. Not very wide or long, it was just big enough for him to stand up in or lay down curled up. There was one light shining down from just above his head, showing him a veritable cell with no visible exits. How had he gotten here? Was someone going to come back for him?

A spike of fear gripped his spark as he noticed something else. Where was his brother? He had been with him constantly thus far and had just assumed that they would just be together. After all, their creator had told them to stay together, hadn't he? Had Yellow abandoned him? Maybe he was so mad at him for being such a slagger than he left him to this cell. Or had Pinch taken him away? Where was he? Would he ever see his twin again?

The smallness of the room did not help his growing panic, nor did the dim light that flickered now and then. He didn't want to be alone. It was too small here. He couldn't move. Not enough air was going through his intakes.

Going for the wall closest to him, Red slammed on it with his fists, trying to escape this tiny prison. Hollering for whoever might hear him. He was sorry, he didn't mean it, he would do better…

But no one answered the frightened newborn.

He finally curled up with his knees under his chin and shivered violently, the sound of metal against metal unnerving him even more. Where was his brother? Didn't he know he was afraid? Didn't he know he was sorry? If he'd known he'd be banished to this little cell, he'd have told off Pinch right away for even looking crosswise at his brother. He'd have given Yellow as much energon as he wanted.

It was too small here. He had to get out. He'd do anything to get out.

OoOoOo

The moment he opened his optics, Yellow knew that he was alone. The air was unnaturally still. He could _feel_ that he was alone in this small place. It was strange being apart from his brother when they'd never been separated yet in their short lives. It… didn't feel right.

The walls were so close together and seemed to move on their own before his optics. The small light above his head only emphasized the fact that he was caged in. So small... he couldn't stand it in here!

But he dared not move very much at all, only sitting up from his sprawled position on the floor. If he moved too much, if he touched those walls, it would be real. It would seem even smaller. So he bunched himself into a tight ball in the corner, wishing for as much open space as he could manage.

Where was Red? Did their creator take him away or did the sparkling leave on his own? Maybe he hurt him too badly in their fight. What if he hurt Red! Pinch said they were to become warriors, but what if he'd done too much too quickly? They were supposed to stay together, not fight each other! Why did he have to stay angry at his twin? Surely Red was just as confused and frightened as he was; he didn't have to blame him for not going against Pinch. He didn't have to fight for that energon; Red was right anyway. He'd only wanted it because his brother wanted it. He didn't want to have less than him, so he fought him. It was stupid. He was stupid. Maybe they got rid of him because he was so stupid. Red didn't need a brother who hurt and blamed him because he was scared too.

He was helpless, yet again, and he hated it. He didn't even have to be under the effects of Triggerpinch's discs to be made so vulnerable. And this time there was no 'off' switch that could make it all better. No, he'd have to be saved from this kind of helplessness.

The yellow mech didn't like being alone. Back in that room with the computers, the young one would have given anything to be away from that bothersome twin of his. But without his presence, it was cold and much too quiet.

For the first time in his six days of life, he was lonely.

OoOoOo

Triggerpinch stared at the two monitors for a moment, taking a break from his work. He could see the punishment was having a very interesting effect on his children. Unable to stop the fight in the computer room before the energon exploded, he decided to use a different method rather than the discs to get his message across. He didn't want the fledglings to get too used to them after all. No, he'd much rather scare them into their lesson so that it would stick that much better.

They were supposed to be a team, and until they realized that, he'd have to waste a lot of valuable time drilling it into their processors.

He'd have to be careful, though. Too much time spent apart might make them more independent. They had to fear separation, not learn to live with it.

Triggerpinch watched as the red child got up from his cowed position and began to pace again. Could the infant not stay still for one cycle? He said no words this time, but instead focused his loneliness into anger and lay into the wall with all he had, even more so than before. The engineer scowled to himself, seeing the ebony fists punch into the wall. He'd just made those hands too! How dare that boy ruin his work!

Whether from exhaustion, pain, or just plain giving up, after a while the red one leaned against the wall he'd just finished punching and heaved a great sigh. Alright, he was still now. So that meant… ah, there it was. The slightest twitching of the right foot. Always moving, always doing something.

"Don't like staying still, eh little one?" Pinch mused to himself. He could work with that. Now for the other one.

Yellow, to his wonderment, reacted quite differently. He was still bunched up in the corner, so still one might mistake him for a statue or a piece of furniture. Not a single servo moved. All his energy from being penned in was conserved inward, growing larger with each astrosecond. Yellow wasn't tiring himself with useless acts of violence, but actually making himself much more powerful without knowing it. Once Pinch was done with him, that pent up power could be a great force to be reckoned with in the future. A mech would not do well to corner that one.

But, wait… what was he doing now?

OoOoOo

He hated this room and vowed to himself that if he ever got out, he'd never go back. If this was punishment for a wrongdoing on his part, he would be perfect from now on. Any more time in this place and he might just deactivate from the stress of it. Yellow stared at his reflection morosely, angry that he'd been so terrible as to be put in here. Angry at Red for letting him be put here.

A golden finger absently traced his face in the pristine metallic walls. He knew, by definition, what beauty was. What most creatures defined as beauty. And while he could hardly be called a good judge of the subject, he found that he didn't mind looking at himself that much. Again his finger traced his face, taking care to notice the subtle lines of his face.

Then he paused.

Apparently he'd pressed too hard, because there was a faint scratch on the smooth surface. But it wasn't the act of scratching the metal that drew his attention. During his tracing, the young mech had managed to scratch his likeness onto the wall.

Furrowing his brow, he lifted his finger once more. Could he do it again? Could he create another Yellow on the wall?

It took a while, but in the end, there was another fledgling sitting next to him on the wall, staring right back.

He thought it might help him cope with the loneliness, but the newborn looking at him was just as lonely. The face was just as sad. What he needed was another companion. One with smiles and laughter and jokes.

He rested his forehead on his knees and wrapped his arms around them. What he needed was his brother.

Then his head lifted and he stared at the wall scratching of the other Yellow. Could he make a Red?

This was a much harder task to accomplish as the original Red was not here to trace. But he did it all the same if only for something to keep his mind off the chillingly tight space he'd been forced in. Looking back, he couldn't remember exactly what his twin brother looked like. Just a few details here and there. But he knew the feel of him and it was this feeling of 'brother' that he tried to put in rather than the exact angles of his face.

At the end of the 6th day, when Triggerpinch went to the closets to retrieve his misbehaving fledglings, the first thing he saw when he opened Yellow's door was a pair of scratched fledglings on the wall and one asleep on the floor.

**End Part Three**

**A/N:** I'm sooo sorry this took forever. I made it a bit longer than usual to make up for it though: ) I apologize if this chapter seems a bit slow, but I had to get some things in there. In canon, Sunny is an artist, so I wanted to include that here. We'll be seeing more of his artistic side later on as well. Thank you for your comments everyone! All your ideas and questions help keep me on track.

**Reviews!**

Flyby Starchaser: Aren't they though: ) I hate to make them all mean, but it has to be done. Sorry this is late, but I hope you still like it.

MariaShadow: Thank you for giving me the kick I needed! You're the best! Thanks, when I was coming up with the pre-name-names, I had the same trouble he did, and I thought 'well, heck! Let's just make them equal all the way around!' He may seem like a big mean old man (ok, well, he is), but he does have a plan. I love Starhorse's work! We've been chatting a bit too on how to deal with this 'baby' thing and a little bit about 'Our Revels.' Wonderful lady, very nice! And with such good perspective on it too! Keep kicking me if I seem like I'm too slow, that's how I operate.

Trueborn Chaos: I loved your email, it was great! Lol, thank you so much. I'm so glad the OC's seem to work well in the story. As I said before, I was a bit nervous about having them at all, especially in such large numbers. We'll be seeing a bit more of Weaver as we go, but her big moment won't be till later.

PuraJazzBot: I definitely love origin fics! I never knew they could be so much fun before! Eh, Pinch is just a big meanie. And I wouldn't call it mistreating so much as… creative rearing. Sorry I beat you to Jazz, but I'd love to see your version of it. Go for it, girl, I've missed reading your stuff!

Tiamat1972: They are cuties, and I plan to savor their cuteness for as long as I can! The human children… well they were an experience. Just imagine me with golden plating and a daisy chain stuck around my neck, and that just about sums it up. Oh! Congratulations! I wish you the best of luck! – hug! –

Zero: Thank you. But nope! There's plenty more chapters to come. Not just two. Thanks for the encouragement!


	4. The Arena

A/N: Things are going to start picking up a bit. Let me know if there's anything I can clear up, I don't want anyone lost this early in the game! We still have a long way to go.

Part Four: The Arena

The cycle the twins woke up, Pinch knew that the lesson had stuck. Their isolation hadn't made them accustomed to being alone; it had made them afraid of it. He watched from the door as they woke up in their room, each on their own berths. The engineer wasn't quite sure what to expect from his sparklings at first. Awkwardness perhaps. Or maybe exuberance at being reunited.

Instead they just sat up and looked at the other, testing each other for a moment. Red still had a lost look on his face and Yellow a defensive one. When nothing happened for a while, they began to shift their weight from restlessness. It was hesitant for a moment, Red making the first real move. He stood from his berth, the other twin just watching him.

Moving swiftly, Red sat next to Yellow just as naturally as if he were sitting on his own. Just as though he belonged there all along. No large reactions. No hysterics or crying or large displays of affection and joy. Their bodies touched at the forearms and down their legs, and for them, it seemed to be enough.

Triggerpinch didn't need to see anymore after that.

Leaving the room, he walked down the hallway and returned to his workbench in the shop. The old engineer always did think better when his body was occupied with something else. It wasn't as though it were an especially complicated project anyway. Just a simple jetpack commission for some young punk who probably knew better. Oh well, he was getting paid, what did he care what was done with it?

The image of Yellow's sketchings flashed before his optics again. He had never expected such a show of creativity in either of his creations, especially so soon, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. He needed killers, not artists. He could try to stamp out that creativity, or…

Redirect it. Yes, that was the solution. He'd redirect that creativity, use it to his advantage. The silly wall drawings would have to go of course. There would be no more wasting of anyone's time with that nonsense, he'd make sure of it. No good could come of it. Instead that pent-up creativity would be put to good use.

The stout engineer gave the fledglings one megacycle to reacquaint themselves before returning with three cubes of energon. The pair were cautious of him now, just as he thought they might be. Their programming and common sense would not allow anything else. They knew he was responsible for their being separated just as they knew he was responsible for any pain or fear inflicted upon them. They eyed him as a predator, becoming as still as any hunted creatures. Nearly like when they were under the influence of his discipline discs.

Good, they were fast learners.

"Fighting amongst yourselves without being told to is not allowed," he informed them gruffly. "Every time you disobey me or waste my time, you will be put back in those closets for as long as I see fit." He saw Red give an involuntary shiver. "Your five days with the orientation discs are done, though from what I observed, I'd be surprised if you could tell me one solid fact from one of them."

"We need more time with them," Yellow said boldly. "Other sparklings get ten days."

"Other _sparklings_," snarled Pinch, "are coddled and made to be soft. Those orientation discs have already wasted enough of my time. Time that could be spent training."

"Training for what?" Red asked, coming out of his 'still' state. His head cocked to the side curiously.

Oh wonderful, the questioning nature of the yellow one was bleeding over to the other.

"I told you before; I was commissioned by the military to make a pair of warriors for them. We're in a war here and have no time for playing. From this cycle on, you are in training to become those warriors. My loyalties to you only stretch as far as the commission, so don't ask for any special treatment; you won't be given any. You are weapons and that is how you will be treated."

"But… what if we don't want to be weapons?" Yellow asked with only honesty in his smooth soft voice.

Pinch sighed, optics darkening. "I don't remember giving you a choice. Does a gun stop being a gun just because a mech won't shoot it? You are what you are." Nodding toward the three cubes placed upon Red's empty berth, he continued, "you have half a megacycle to prepare yourselves. Training begins today."

They did not question him again, not willing to test their creator's patience so soon after their isolation.

Triggerpinch turned to leave again, pausing at the doorway as a thought occurred to him. "Yellow," he barked out, not turning to see his golden child.

"Er… yes?" the sparkling asked quietly, sensing his parent's displeasure. But he wouldn't _not_ answer. That would be too much like giving in to the bad-tempered mech.

"If I ever see something as foolish as those wall… doodles again, I will be very displeased. Was your punishment too boring for you? Do I have to find something new?" He did not have to look to see that his words had the desired effect.

"No!" the young one said quickly. "I just wanted to…"

"Just wanted to make less of a punishment of it," the engineer finished. "You were there for a reason. I'm telling you right now, do not shirk a punishment again or you'll find yourself in well over your head."

There was no reply.

"Do you understand?" his voice echoed off the metallic walls, making the sparklings' audios ring from it.

"I understand," Yellow replied obediently, not seeing what he had done that was so wrong. He'd felt the punishment with each terrible moment; he'd felt the loneliness and the tight walls and the dim flickering light. What could Pinch do that was worse than that hellish closet? In his young mind he couldn't even imagine something worse, but he didn't want to test that either.

"Good. Half a megacycle." The door shut behind Triggerpinch and the twins relaxed from a tenseness neither remembered getting.

Yellow went to fetch two of the three cubes from Red's berth, giving one to his brother. The third cube he hadn't even looked at, leaving it there behind.

"What did he mean?" Red asked, accepting his cube with a nod. "Doodles?"

"Nothing," Yellow grumbled into his cube as he drank. At the time it had made sense and it had felt right. Now, however, he felt as foolish as Pinch claimed it to be. What would Red say if he knew he'd tried to draw his likeness into the wall?

The rest of the time was spent in silence as each brother contemplated what might be next. Neither of them liked the sound of being weapons. Why did they have to be such? Did no other sparklings have a choice in what they did? What was this war that Triggerpinch referred to and why did they have to be involved? None of it made any sense and the twins were beginning to think that their creator would not offer them any real explanations like they had hoped.

When he came to get them, the old engineer offered them no explanation and they asked for none. With Yellow on the left and Red on the right, both a step behind, Triggerpinch led them out of their apartment for the first time.

The apartment was not located in the best section of town. No nobles dwelled there with their beautiful bright exteriors and their high unattainable ideals. Yet nor did it lay in the slums. Triggerpinch prided himself in the fact that he could go to his recharge berth each night with the full confidence of waking the following morning. Criminals were there, yes, but not in worrisome quantities. For all his failings, he was a slagging good engineer and had the credits to prove it.

A mech such as himself had nothing to fear with two large powerful-looking mechs flanking him as he walked down the street.

Red stared at the world around him as they walked down the street. Everything was so big! There were so many people, all of various ages and sizes and occupations. An orientation disc could tell him about this all it wanted. But nothing could beat the real thing. Not by a long shot.

A group of four bots caught his attention as he walked passed. All… different from him and his two companions. 'Femmes' the discs had described them, he now remembered. All of a much smaller build than he with curves and a softness to them he could never hope to achieve. And all of them very beautiful.

One of the femmes, green and pale pink, finally noticed the sparkling watching her and her friends. Looking at him, she could never know just how old he was. All she saw was a handsome youngish looking mech who seemed absolutely fascinated. The black femme at her side noticed as well and started chuckling quietly to herself.

"Don't be rude," she admonished her friend, not able to help the smile on her face as well. He still hadn't taken his optics off them, not seeming to know what to do with himself. You'd think he'd never seen a femme before.

"But he's staring right at us," a short green femme said quietly in amusement.

"Forget the red one," the fourth one said eyeing the brother instead. "Look at the other one. He's gorgeous."

A new round of laughter burst out from the femmes, drawing not only Red's attention but Pinch's and Yellow's as well.

Stopping, Triggerpinch gave a long suffering look to the group of femmes. "Escapade," he addressed the green and pink. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh no, Trigger, everything's fine," she smiled, stepping forward. "We were just wondering... who are these friends of yours? I don't think I've seen them before."

Yellow gave a puzzled look to his brother before focusing once more on the femme. Like Red he knew what a femme was, but not exactly _what_ one was. What did they do? Why were they so different? Were they all so pretty?

Escapade couldn't believe the nerve of the two handsome mechs. They were just blatantly staring at her still, not even bothering to be discreet. "Won't you introduce us, Trigger?" she asked further, smiling at the yellow one who was indeed quite the looker.

"They're not your type," was the amused reply. "Go back to your little friends and let us pass in peace."

"How would you know what our type is, Pinch?" the orange and black one stepped forward, the one who had eyed Yellow first. Smiling flirtatiously at the twins she said, "my name is Trance. What's yours?"

"Not interested," Triggerpinch insisted, walking through the gaggle of femmes. Turning around suddenly, he smirked. "Unless you like your mechs pre-inspected."

Red hadn't believed a bot could move as fast as those femmes did upon hearing his creator's words. Backing off from he and his brother as though burned, their flirting smiles and words ceased immediately and a look of horror was upon Trance's face. Whatever 'pre-inspected' meant, it must not be a good thing. He had enjoyed the attention as well, what was wrong with being friendly?

"Red, Yellow," his creator called, not quite as irritated as he had been now that he'd had a laugh at the mortified femmes. "Come."

Obeying, Red looked back at Trance and the others, smiling. "Bye, it was nice to meet you!"

Another groan of embarrassment met his audios before the group was left behind. His brother just shrugged at his questioning look; he didn't know what had just happened any more than he did. But he did smile in a bemused sort of way. It seemed he had enjoyed the attention just as much as he did. If nothing else, for a while the femmes had been glad to see them.

The building Pinch brought them to was much larger than their apartment. Resembling a great upside-down bowl, neither twin could imagine what could be inside it. Not many bots were around, just a few going in or out in a steady trickle. And none looked like the delicate femmes they'd left behind. These were mechs and femmes who could obviously hold their own in any fight.

"Where are we?" Yellow asked their creator, hoping his mood had improved enough to warrant giving an answer.

"Your second home," was the easy reply. "Red, Yellow, this is the Arena."

"What's the Arena?" Red questioned, emboldened by the response.

"You'll see soon enough. Follow me and don't say anything until I tell you to." Pinch led the way to one of the many entrances, giving his name to the mech at the gate.

"And who are you two?" the mech asked of the infants.

"They're with me," Pinch replied before either Red or Yellow could give their temporary names to the gatekeeper.

"I'm sorry, but you are not authorized to…"

"It's ok, I asked them to come," piped in a new voice. The two fledglings vaguely remembered seeing this mech when they first came on-line, though he hadn't done or said anything at the time. They were too focused on the new world around them, each other, and their creator. Taller than they were by about a head, he moved with more grace than Triggerpinch or they did. His body was lean and sleek, a flier's body, and it was red and blue. Yellow was reminded of something, seeing the bot move and act, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Late, as usual," Pinch grumped, his mood already beginning to sour again.

"Not late, Pinchy," the mech cheeked back with a grin. "You're early."

"If you're early, you're…"

"…On time. If you're on time, you're late. If you're late, don't bother showing up. Yes, Pinch, I know." The mech seemed to just notice the twins at last, and his expression perked back up. "Well look who made it out of their berths today." Walking forward, he looked over each brother appraisingly.

"Um… who are you?" Red asked hesitantly. Anyone who could talk to his creator like that and get away with it must be a formidable person indeed.

"I, my little red friend, am your brother," the mech introduced himself. "Name's Flattop."

Brother? Like Yellow was? Why weren't they created at the same time? Did he live with Pinch too? Red's processor was filled with a dozen questions at once and he couldn't decide which to ask first. Now he recognized what was so familiar about the bot; his mannerisms were so like Pinch's. He moved more gracefully, and his smile was much more common, but their creator was definitely in there. Even some physical characteristics of Pinch were reflected in the flier like they were reflected in the twins.

"Well, shall we?" Flattop indicated toward the entrance to the building. The mech at the gate didn't try to stop them this time, leaving the twins to wonder why he could have his way and not Pinch. Maybe in some places their creator didn't have the kind of power that he had at home?

The Arena was built like a series of rings. There were three levels: the outer level for personal use, the second level for pairs or small groups, and the innermost level for a large battle royale setting. And except for the inner most level which was an enormous course in a room, the other two levels were composed of hundreds of rooms each with holograms and various obstacles for the combatant to overcome. It was a training facility for a select few, and it proved difficult to gain membership as it was created for current or would-be frontline soldiers. Hence why Flattop was needed to get his two younger brothers access to it.

Leading the group to the second level with the larger rooms, Flattop ran a card through a slot, granting him entrance. "I got this one for 4 days," he explained to Pinch and the twins. "Had to pull rank on about ten mechs to do it too. You owe me for this, Pinchy."

"Call me Pinchy again and I'll remove your vocal circuits with a vibro-saw," his creator answered in a bored tone, looking around at the room. "Is it suitable?"

"Don't trust me?" the younger mech smirked.

"Not in the slightest."

"It'll be fine. Came with all the bells and whistles you asked for. Show some faith." Flattop typed in a code on a wall panel. "Computer, run basic still course 5. Duo."

Before the twins' optics, the room shifted and changed beneath their feet. Obstacles formed and panels on the walls opened to reveal dangerous-looking auto-guns. Yellow stared at all this in dumb fascination. What in the world were they supposed to do in this place?

Flattop approached his two brothers, holding two weapons in his hands. "Working these are real simple, kiddos," he said. "You point and pull the trigger. Get it?"

The two nodded, not getting it. They'd probably figure it out as they went. Their databanks told them enough to get the general idea.

Yellow took his weapon carefully, looking at it closely. It felt so natural there, as though it belonged there. A hiss distracted him from getting anything more than a brief glance however. Red winced in pain and flinched back from Flattop after he tried to retrieve his own gun. Had Flattop hurt him? Yellow's grip on the rifle tightened without him knowing it.

"Primus, kid, what happened to your hands?" the flier breathed, staring down at Red's dented and mangled hands. The sparkling was barely able to hold the weapon at all, let alone correctly and his handsome young face was screwed up in pain.

"He slagged them up himself," snorted Triggerpinch, answering for him. "Fragging ingrate didn't figure out the first dozen times he couldn't punch through my walls."

"Why was he trying to punch through your walls?" Flattop asked, frowning.

The engineer just shrugged and the two fledglings didn't look as though they were about to offer any explanations either. Red would have to deal with his hands; there would be no coddling if he hurt himself. Triggerpinch made that quite clear from the beginning. He'd made it clear since the twins spoke their first words and took their first steps.

Moving back to an area where they could observe, Flattop and Pinch watched the sparklings go through the exercise time and time again. The objective was simple: take out the auto-guns before they took you out.

Of course, the weapons weren't real in either the wall guns or the twins'. Programmed to give out 'flashes,' both sets of weapons would give an electrical shock that would leave the mechanical object temporarily useless. Thus if an auto-gun was hit, it would be 'out of the game.' If a mech was hit, wherever was hit would become numb and limp, useless until their sensors righted themselves. It was as close to a real battle simulation as you could get, and still remain safe.

Triggerpinch planned to have them use real weapons before their first decade was up.

It took a few rounds before the twins were able to figure out what was expected of them. Their aim was better than that of most sparklings, but still had much to be improved upon. Their footwork sloppy, their reaction time laughable, Pinch saw the hiccups he was looking for. Their bodies were fully capable of everything he had built them for and for 6 days old, their instincts were rather good. What they lacked was the control and will. It was his job and the job of a select few others to give them both.

By all accounts, he shouldn't have expected much for their first time out, especially considering the age of the twins. Yet the engineer didn't worry about such things. They needed to be ready sooner rather than later. Already he was working on borrowed time. The war might not wait for the sparklings to grow up naturally, and the military might request them at any time.

Yellow hissed in surprise as his right leg gave out from under him and he nearly collapsed on it. The flashes didn't hurt per say, but it was so similar to the paralyzing disc attached to his chest that he couldn't help but feel a thrum run through his spark. To his left he saw his brother trying to fend off two auto-guns at once as he struggled to make it behind one of the obstacles. The red twin was clumsy, and stumbled constantly. Already his left arm had been flashed as well as a part of his chest. Neither twin seemed able to last more than a few cycles under the guns.

A cold, shocking sensation filled Yellow's body as he finally fell to the ground. He'd been spacing out again, watching his brother rather than his own manifold. Shot straight in the chest, he could no longer support himself. Once more, he was out of the game.

Distracted by Yellow's cry of dismay, Red swiveled around to see his brother collapse at last. He didn't see the nearest wall-mounted gun swivel onto him and fire, hitting his shooting arm and skimming his chest. Stumbling again on the uneven ground, he couldn't keep his feet under him anymore and came crashing to the ground, the fall made harder with no hands to break his fall. Not that it would have helped that much anyway, his hands already felt like sharp lines of fire were constantly running through them. Another fall on them might very well snap them right off.

"Computer, end program!" snapped Triggerpinch, having seen enough for one session. Useless idiots, the both of them! Why not just stand limbs splayed out in-front of a gun and save him the headache of watching them trip over themselves for the fragging billionth time? The auto-guns obediently shut down and the obstacles shifted back into their original positions, leaving nothing but two helpless sparklings laying in the middle of an empty room, their weapons nearby.

Flattop watched from the sidelines as his creator stalked toward his brothers. There was just no dealing with Pinch when the old mech was like this. This was their first session; surely he would be at least a little lenient on them.

"Congratulations," the blue and black mech spat out, any signs of a good mood vanished. "You both have just wasted my entire afternoon."

"But, Pinch…" Red's protest was cut off as the familiar tensing of his nerves came to him. The familiar fear came with it of being so helpless and vulnerable.

"Quiet." Triggerpinch looked back and forth between his two now paralyzed infants, the control for the discs in his hand. "Neither of you would have lasted a cycle in a real combat situation, I expected better. Apparently I was expecting too much out of you two. Now I'm going to start the program again and you're going to do it right or until I get sick of watching you run around like headless drones."

"They'll need some energon," Flattop chimed in helpfully. "They have a booth out near the entrance…"

"No," the engineer shook his head, not giving his eldest a second glance. "Battles don't give you lunch breaks. Besides, after this morning, I think they've had enough playing around with their meals."

Playing around? What was he talking about? Yellow struggled to figure out what the proud mech had meant by that even as he tried to fight his uncooperative body. If his creator was referring to the third cube of energon, then that was ridiculous! Why give them odd numbers of cubes? Were they supposed to claim it or not? What did it mean?

Pinch came and crouched in-between the two sparklings, addressing both at once. "You're both better than this," he hissed. "I created you to be better than this. Now get up and do it again."

Immediately the paralyzed twins found themselves able to move again, leaving only a sore feeling in their limbs. Rolling over to get up wearily, Yellow eyed his creator fearfully, but not without a touch of anger. "But I don't want to. I'm tired."

That was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time.

"I don't care what you want, little one," Pinch's optics narrowed, cursing the fledgling's boldness. "You will do as you're told, or I will just show you why…"

"No," Red shook his head, unable to see his brother become the source of their creator's anger again. "He's tired. I'm tired too. Can't we rest a little? Leave him alone."

Triggerpinch outwardly raged at them, promising them more time in the closets if they dared defy him again. He forced them round after round in that room, furious that they were still stumbling, still spacing out. Any backtalk or defiant glares were swiftly punished. Mistakes were not tolerated; he ran them until they could run no longer.

But he did not punish Red for defending Yellow. Nor did he punish any other act to protect their twin. Their first lesson had yet to cultivate. They were far from a team, let alone thinking and acting as one united and unstoppable force. But the seeds of the lesson had taken root, and he would not punish that.

**End Part Four**

**A/N:** For those who were left wondering, 'pre-inspected' basically equals jail-bait. Robbing the… er… berth? The femmes I added on a whim, but I'm rather fond of that scene if only for the sheer mental images involved. I wanted to include their inspection and naming in this chapter, but this chapter ran a bit too long for that. The closets will be making frequent appearances as will the Arena. I know Pinch is a mean slagger, but remember it's not for the sake of being mean. Everything he does has a purpose, if you don't believe me, just ask DesertCat since I ran all my convoluted ideas through her to see if they held any weight. Eventually it will make sense and their personalities will shape them into the mechs we are more used to. Much thanks to her, Shades, and Jo for listening to my rambling more than is probably healthy : )

**A/N:** On livejournal, there is a fan character challenge that I and a few others have decided to undertake. The challenge is that there are sets of themes that you pick and you must write 100 fics or draw 100 pics based around one fan character in any fandom. One fic, one theme. I've chosen Flattop for this challenge and I have one done and almost done with the second. Would anyone be interested if I posted them up onff . net? Each fic would be one chapter in length and would cover his entire life at various points. They will also have spoilers in there for this story, just so you know going in. Tell me what you think, please.


	5. Because We Can't

A/N: Well here is the inspection and naming I promised in the last one. I'm almost sad to see 'Red' and 'Yellow' go… After the inspection, I will be jumping around a bit as far as time goes before settling in on the ages I want them to be for a while… eh, you'll see. I'll try to keep it simple for ya'll, but I have a few million years to get through and a lot of ground to cover! As always, if you have any questions, let me know so I can clear it up.

Part Five: Because We Can't

Red shifted impatiently, waiting for the government bot to be finished already. This was the grand inspection he and his brother had been so excited about? It was slagging boring! Just some crusty little mech poking and prodding and asking questions he didn't understand. He would much rather be at the Arena, terrible as it was. At least there he could let loose some of the energy he always found himself with.

Skidfast walked around the yellow child again, typing notes into his datapad. "They are both fully functional you say?" He'd been at this for a few megacycles already, yet he couldn't just pass them. There was something about them… something he didn't like. Perhaps it was the tight shift in their bodies and slight flashing of their optics whenever he drew too near. Or the strange marks on their chassis that looked like they'd been in a few too many fights recently. They were an odd pair, and weren't even a full ten days old!

Pinch crossed his arms, scowling. His patience, like his red sparkling's, had just about run itself dry. Wasn't the little government toady done yet? "Of course they are. Why don't you ask them yourself?"

"You said they were commissions?"

"Yes. The brass at the top gave me a list of what they wanted and I made it."

"I have seen this list," the little silver mech nodded. "And I must admit I am concerned at the combination of the traits asked for." Aggressiveness, territorial, strong in mind and body, swift reflexes, plus the ability to rend a creature limb from limb… Just what were the Primes at the top thinking when they created this commission? These weren't sparklings, they were living, thinking weapons!

"Which is why I need to be left alone to train them properly. They'll be obedient just fine. My record should speak for itself. I have two creations already, one a successful Intelligence agent in the military and one in the best medical school Cybertron has." A sigh. Hadn't they been through this ten times already? They were supposed to meet Flattop at the Arena already.

"This one…" Skidfast stopped in front of the tall yellow mech who looked nervous at the sudden attention. "I don't like the looks of him." His blue optics stared into the child's, scrutinizing every aspect of him. These two infants did not sit well with him, this one especially. So beautiful… could looks really be that deceiving?

The red child shifted uneasily beside them, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to get into trouble, but he wouldn't let this newcomer become a threat to his twin. The past few days had taught him much in appreciating his brother. And why was the silver mech getting so close? Bad things happened when anyone other than he entered Yellow's personal space. Just as bad things happened to Red when anyone entered his. This was a simple truth he'd come to learn over the past few days.

Yet he didn't want to lash out at someone who meant no harm either.

The moment the silver mech reached out to touch Yellow, the decision no longer needed making up. That was quite close enough and then some; the line of 'acceptable distance' had been crossed. Red sprang forward between the two, shoving Skidfast across the room before the new mech had even made contact. He crouched, ready to defend his startled brother further. However the government clerk had no wish to get any closer. As it was, he'd have a lovely dent or two that needed looking after. For such a young thing, the much larger mech threw one slag of a punch when he wanted to.

Triggerpinch uncrossed his arms, navy optics widening in horror at the scene that unfolded before him. What did that miserable infant think he was doing?! He was going to ruin everything! After all the hard work and detail and planning… Red was going to destroy all of that! He would have gone to intervene, but natural curiosity overrode his motion circuits for the moment. No other moves had been made; perhaps it wouldn't end so terribly…

Yellow quickly grabbed his brother's shoulders which appeared to have an immediate calming effect. "Don't," he hissed, grip tightening slightly before relaxing. Red only lowered his head to glare at Skidfast who had recovered and stared at the two in fury. With his face hidden in the shadow of his helm and only his burning optics visible, the red twin looked every inch the feral killer Triggerpinch had hoped to create. With awe, the engineer watched the young one carefully. There was no sign of clumsiness here; it was like he was a different sparkling entirely. Triggerpinch grinned despite himself. Perfect.

"I could have those two deactivated for that!" Skidfast railed at Triggerpinch who didn't seem too responsive to the fact that he'd just been assaulted. By mere fledglings no less! In fact, he looked downright pleased at the pair. "This is an outrage! They aren't fit to walk the streets!"

Taking the not so thinly veiled threat for what it was, Yellow stepped from behind his twin to stand beside him. While it was appreciated, and very nearly expected, he did not need anyone to fight his battles. He was starting to learn, slowly but surely, that if he wanted to survive in this universe he had to be strong. For both himself and his twin.

Triggerpinch noticed this and couldn't have approved more. The matching set of glares on their young faces was exactly what he had been looking for these past few days. So far he'd been unable to find it, yet when put to the test, his creations acted just as designed. "They weren't created to 'walk the streets,' they were created to attack. You can't deactivate them for being what they are. You made yourself a threat by getting too close to Yellow and Red eliminated that threat," he reasoned logically. "The Primes will not allow you to fail their inspection. I am only doing this because your department won't let me rest until I do."

The clerk knew he was beaten, but refused to let his pride be damaged. "Then live with what you build, Triggerpinch. But they are a menace and should never have been created."

"I won't argue either fact. But they _were_ created and they _will_ serve their purpose. Now you can leave of your own accord, or I can have them show you the door."

Choosing the wiser of the choices, Skidfast made a quick exit, muttering insults as he went. Snorting at the stupid silver mech, Pinch approached his children who were still recovering from the encounter. At least Red had calmed down. Pinch wasn't a threat to his him and his brother. Well, not one he could eliminate anyway.

Red shook his head a little as though to shake away his dark expression. When he looked at Triggerpinch again, it was with the same clear optics he had always had. "You…" the young one said quietly to his creator, a hurt expression on his face. "You agreed with him."

"I did not create you out of the goodness of my spark. And he's right: you and your brother are dangerous and the Primes had no idea what they were asking when they asked for you. But that doesn't matter anymore, you live." He looked at Yellow then back at Red. "That idiot's opinion is slag. The Primes' opinions are slag. My opinion is slag. Prove to me that you deserve life. Earn it. If you two can do that, you just may survive long enough to serve your purpose."

"We aren't just tools," Yellow proclaimed brazenly. While he respected his creator, he would not be intimidated by him. "We're mechs with our own minds." He remembered Pinch's reaction to his wall drawings.

"You _are_ just tools and that's all you'll ever be to me." He saw the sudden pain in his children's optics, but didn't care and nor did he budge. "Here is your first lesson repeated: do not count on me to defend you to others, because I won't. Don't depend on others to come back for you or protect you, because they won't be there. You have each other and you'd better damn well hold onto that, or you'll have nothing. You'll _be_ nothing."

It was the same lesson he'd drilled into their processors since their first cycle of existence, and now more than ever, they believed it.

"Well," the engineer backed up a bit to give his fledglings a good once-over. "Now that that drone idiot is gone, onto the next step. You've lasted ten days without blowing up, so you won't be ordered deactivated."

"We get names?" Red asked, face brightening. It seemed his mood really did come and go as it pleased. It was a characteristic that his creator hadn't expected, but that was alright; he could work with it.

Pinch nodded to his question. "You get names. Yellow…" he stared hard at the bold, beautiful twin. Strong and bright as any sun who would not allow himself to fall into the shadows. Nor would he allow himself to be dominated by anyone, not his twin and not his creator. His was a strong unbreakable spirit that any Commander will have trouble with in the future. Even being protected by Red from the harmless clerk, he would not allow it for long. Instead he stepped up boldly, not hiding behind anything or anyone. "Your name is Sunstreaker."

"Sunstreaker…" the newly dubbed mech rolled it around in his mouth, liking the sound of it. The beauty and strength of it.

"And you, Red." This one was harder. The child had so many angles to him, deceiving yet genuine. Innocent and guilty and soft and hard all at once. He'd roll with the punches and deal back twice the amount. That one would be real trouble for whatever sorry sap got command over him. Pinch had to smile as he thought back to the display of a few cycles ago. How he'd taken the offending clerk completely off-guard just as he might a true enemy. "Sideswipe."

He allowed them a few moments to become used to their new identities. They sounded the names out, tested them. He'd done well; they were good names for his sparklings. Yet they had time enough later to muse on the reasoning behind his choices. Flattop was waiting and they had much to do and not much time to do it in. Triggerpinch mentally went over the lessons he had planned. Well, he had one problem solved. He had found his children's drive. Their control and their will.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker," he called. As one the pair looked up, large innocent grins on their faces that replaced the sad frowns of the past few days.

Part of him was almost sorry to know that he would be the destruction of those smiles.

"Come with me. We have work to do."

OoOoOo Three years later… OoOoOo

"Look, I'm sorry, buddy, but unless I have proper papers I can't just give them to you. I have no idea how old they are and if the government finds out I…"

"The government is the least of your worries right now, you die-cast walking disaster. I'm offering you twice its worth, and…"

Sideswipe wandered away from his creator and the mech he was arguing with. "What's going on?" his brother asked, looking around the interesting shop.

"The other mech says Pinch doesn't have the right papers with him," the red twin answered, poking at a coil curiously.

"Did you find out what this is all about?"

"No."

Sunstreaker nodded looking back around the grounds. He'd never seen such a place before in his three years of life; it looked like a graveyard. A graveyard for machines. Now that he thought about it, there were many such places around the city, each advertising different specialties. Some bragged the cheapest prices. Others, the newest and hottest models. This one boasted high performance and quality.

Whatever it was, their creator seemed willing to pay top credit for it.

"Alright, you two, let's go," Triggerpinch barked from the back door that led to the strange graveyard of a lot.

The small orange shopkeeper looked substantially displeased with the way his argument with Pinch had gone, but all the fight in him had been shouted out. "Over here," he told the brothers, not bothering to look at the blue and black.

He led them down one of the rows of lifeless machines. Some huge and overbearing, some small and shaped like darts. Each one a disgusting green gray color and marked with a price higher than either sparkling had ever seen. What could Triggerpinch, with all of his money-hawking ways, want with hunks of metal like these?

"So what are you three looking for?" the orange asked, still not looking at Pinch. "A new line came out just a few weeks ago. Triple-changing they call it; word is they're working on more forms than that too. I can get you a good deal for…"

"No," Triggerpinch snapped, turning his head to stare down the orange. His dark navy optics glittered in the early first dawn light. "Stop wasting our time with that slag and show us what we came for."

Orange sighed and nodded, obviously wondering what he was doing working in this place. Here was a mech who was used to taking abuse. "Surface hovers are right over here."

The twins fell in step behind Triggerpinch as they were led halfway across this strange yard. They weren't quite sure what 'triple-changing' was or why they needed to be shown surface hovers. If they ever had to go a distance too long to walk, they either rode on Pinch or used public transportation.

They passed rows upon rows of these strange vehicles before the shopkeep finally stopped. "These are our most popular line of…"

"Fine. Leave us." Without another thought to the simmering mech, Triggerpinch turned to Sunstreaker. "You. Pick out what you want."

Too confused to be surprised at his creator's odd show of generosity, Sunstreaker quirked an optic ridge. "What I want for what?" He heard the orange shopkeeper snicker quietly to himself, which he chose to ignore.

"Alternate form," the black and blue explained impatiently. "Don't tell me you're so thick you don't even know what _that_ is."

"No, I know," the yellow replied insolently. "But you didn't tell us we were getting them."

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? Now stop wasting my time and pick something."

Sunstreaker looked over the long row of vehicles. Would he like to be a dart-like speedster? A powerful ram-like machine? So many choices. As always when he was in doubt, he turned to his twin who seemed to know better about these sorts of things. "Which one, Sideswipe?"

"No," Pinch snapped. "I asked you, not him. Now move it."

Sideswipe gave him an apologetic shrug, eyeing the various forms himself. His brother took careful notice of which ones kept a lingering gaze. "That one," he pointed to a medium-sized one, not so big as to make it hard to move, but not so small as to seem weak. In so short a time, he was beginning to think like a warrior already. This form would serve them both the best and would hopefully please their creator.

The shopkeep looked uninterested as he scanned the choice into a datapad and wrote down some of the information. Pinch, however, looked approvingly at the choice, just as the yellow fledgling had hoped.

It was a shame the color was so ugly though. He rather liked his yellow plating. It made him stand out, seem special.

The orange mech looked up from his datapad and laughed outright at the woeful look the young one gave his plating. "Don't worry, kid. You'll be able to keep your pretty mech colors. This is just for the lot designs."

The red twin frowned in confusion. "Why? It's ugly."

A snort. "Of course it is. No one in their right mind would want to be this color besides the fact that you're not allowed to be. Exactly why all alt. shops have to use it. It would be too easy for someone to hide here, donchathink?"

Sunstreaker didn't know why anyone would want to hide in an alt. shop's lot, but he stayed quiet. Triggerpinch probably wouldn't want him to keep asking stupid questions like that. Because even if he was a dolt, he didn't have to open his mouth and let everyone else know.

"How long will this take?" Triggerpinch asked as they made their way back to the shop.

"For the pair? Two megacycles each."

"That's too long!" he sent a dark look to the younger mech. "For the amount this is costing me…"

"For the amount this is costing you, you'd think you'd want this done right," the mech retorted, finally reaching his breaking point of how much abuse he'd allow.

Pinch snorted in disdain but did not answer. For the time being, the orange had won. He led the three back to the shop and into a backroom. It was circular in design with large oval capsules that had what resembled an upright recharge berth inside.

"Alright," the orange steered Sunstreaker toward one of the capsules without any pretense. "In you go."

At the first touch to the yellow mech's chassis, Sideswipe moved right towards them. "In where?" he demanded, voice devoid of its previous innocence and curiosity.

The shopkeep looked suddenly nervous of this new Sideswipe and released the other, realizing that was what had set him off. "Into the capsules. It's how you get your alt."

Sunstreaker looked as though he would argue, but Triggerpinch managed to intervene. "Do as you're told, I don't have all slagging day."

Every instinct he had warned against going into such a small, foreign place. They were far smaller than the closets, and the shopkeep hadn't said how long they'd be in there. Surely not two megacycles! A quick glance to Sideswipe proved the red one was no more eager than he at the prospect. Sunstreaker also knew, though, that if they disobeyed, there would be time spent in the closets after this was all over. They'd dealt with them just that morning and were not eager for another visit.

Sharing another glance, the brothers moved into their respective chambers. If there was no choice, there was no choice. As they went into repair stasis, they could hear their creator barking directions to the poor shopkeeper. "When they are done, you are to show them how to control it and send them home."

"You're not coming back?"

"No, I have to…"

Then all went black.

OoOoOo

When he was next aware of his surroundings, Sunstreaker could feel that something was very different with himself. First of all, he was heavier… or so it felt. Limbs were harder to lift, and it wasn't just lethargy from being offline for so long. The reflection in the inside of the capsule reflected a Sunstreaker he wasn't used to seeing. He was larger than he had been, with additions and alterations to the comparatively slim body he'd had as a younger sparkling.

Wait, he was still in the capsule. Why wasn't it opening? Why was it so small? Wasn't he done? How long would it be like this?

With a small sound of alarm, he shrank back in his restraints, optics switching off so he wouldn't have to see the opposite wall so close to his face. Please, he prayed quietly. He'd be good…. please let him out…

In his mind's vision, the young mech remembered the power he'd seen in the reflection. How weak Triggerpinch would say. How weak must Sunstreaker be when he was so strong and let a little capsule frighten him so. Yet activating his optics to look at the reflection, he didn't feel any stronger. This powerful creature in front of him was no Sunstreaker. He was no better than the smaller, thinner mech he'd been before. His spark was not the spark of this strong being he saw.

Primus but he wished his brother was here. Surely Sideswipe could make sense of this new paradox. Or was the red twin in his own capsule now, thinking the same thing?

Oh, he wanted to get out of here! It was feeling much too small again. Where was his brother? Why wasn't he here? And what would he look like when he too had his alterations? The yellow mech stared hare the reflection, dimly lit by the capsule and his own bright optics, and tried to imagine his brother's face and features on top of his own. Hesitantly he reached out to touch that smile, the one just a little off-center and lopsided.

Snapback rushed back to the workroom as the yells and pounding grew louder. Primus below it sounded like someone was getting murdered in there! The capsule on the far left was dente with fresh punches and whoever was inside wanted out and they wanted out now!

"Hold on, Primus friggit, I'm coming!" The orange mech growled, releasing the clips and opening the capsule, just barely avoiding a series of fists and feet that heralded the red mech's escape from that shiny silver coffin.

Sideswipe looked around wildly, optics shining a frantic blue-white. Hands bleeding energon from his desperate pounding were clenched tightly, ready to continue fighting. "Where is he?" he demanded once he saw the shocked orange mech. Now those furious blue optics were focused on Jumpstart.

"Who?" he sputtered, though he knew right away who 'he' was. "You mean the yellow one? He's fine, he's right here. Look…" He edged to the other capsule that was still and silent. At least, he hoped the yellow one was fine. Something in him doubted that one would be so violent and the other so quiet.

To both of the mechs' relief, Sunstreaker was just fine. The red mech had lost all patience waiting for Jumpstart to open the lid properly and simply tore it off its hinges, eager to get to his brother. As the capsule was torn open Sunstreaker looked up, a slightly glazed stir-crazy glint in his optics, but relatively unharmed. "Sideswipe?" the yellow three-year-old asked in a quiet subdued voice.

His brother was by his side in moments, pushing the shopkeeper out of the way. "You ok?" Sideswipe asked, helping him step out of the capsule. Sunstreaker nodded and their slightly crazed expressions both dissolved into something much more tranquil. Seeing them now one wouldn't believe the twins weren't always so tame. Jumpstart knew different, however, and he was eager to have those two back where they came from. Before he could do that, there was still one more task to perform. Primus he hoped that crabby blue and black was true to his word. Dealing with this was hardly worth the amount of credits he was promised as it was.

As though reading his mind, that red devil mech turned back to face the orange. "So how do these things work anyway?"

These things…? "The capsules?"

"No," Sunstreaker snorted. "You said we'd be able to become that speeder right?"

Nodding dumbly, Jumpstart stepped a little closer, though not too much so. "Your creator said I should show you how to do it and then send you back home."

The two sparklings looked a little ill at the thought of returning to that terrible mech, and Jumpstart could hardly blame them, but nodded in acquiescence. If Pinch said that was how it must be done, then that was how it would be done. As they went through the difficulty of learning this new, seemingly alien aspect of their bodies, the twins' vast differences seemed to come out once more. Whereas the red one wanted to jump right in and do it halfway through the instructions, it was the yellow mech that actually managed the task first. He was able to grasp the more abstract concepts of transformation while his brother figured out how to actually work the new form faster.

Huh… what a strange pair they made indeed.

"I think you have it figured out," the shopkeeper said when they had suitably transformed enough times to make his head spin.

"I think so too," Sunstreaker nodded, glad that the task of transforming hadn't been so hard after all.

"We should get back then," his twin said, a frown on his face. The reminder of what life waited for them in that old apartment was enough to sour Sunstreaker's good mood as well.

And as scary and strange as these two were, Jumpstart couldn't help feeling sorry for them. His own creator could hardly be called cuddly, but at least his sparkling hadn't feared him. Hadn't dreaded being with him. Poor kids.

"Hey look," he said finally. "I have a friend downtown. He has a spare parts shop and he's been looking for some bots to help him out. I can call him up and he can make sure you have a place to stay. The pay's not great, but…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sideswipe, completely bewildered. "We have a place to stay already."

"Yeah, with that old creep," Jumpstart snorted. "Don't you want to get away from him though?"

The yellow one shrugged. "Sure. But we can't."

"Why not? I can help you disappear. He won't find you if…"

"But we're still his," the red shook his head stubbornly. "Why would we leave?"

These two were unbelievable! "Because you're obviously miserable with him," the shopkeeper tried again. "Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"'Cause we can't," the yellow said as though speaking with a newly fledged child.

Jumpstart just stared at the pair, not quite understanding what was wrong with them.

"C'mon, Sunstreaker," Sideswipe said when he got bored with the clearly dumb shopkeeper. "We need to get back. Long night at the Arena tonight, remember?"

Nodding reluctantly his twin followed him out the door. "Yeah, let's go. Don't wanna be late."

The pair transformed and tore off down the road with a whoop, moving as though freed from some awful fate. Those two were strange ones, no doubt about it.

Jumpstart shook his head and went back inside to clean the mess they'd made. Primus, even two half-decimated capsules at that! Kid must've been stronger than he looked to do that. His boss was going to kill him when he found out…

He picked up an end of the lid and struggled to lift it. He cursed himself for not having one of those monstrosities do it for him. A sudden catch in the light made him pause and look inside. There were strange markings in there… Upon closer inspection Jumpstart could see the marks were actually the scratch of fingers against the lid's metal. There was a form there…

Well look at that. It was the reformatted red twin. Before the yellow had even seen him to know what to draw.

Yeah… those two were strange alright. Still… it wasn't a half-bad likeness.

**End Part Five**

**A/N**: Sorry for this chapter to take so long. I had finished the inspection scene when I ran into a brick wall. Like I said before, there's a lot of ground to cover before the end and I don't want this story to take forever. I had to pick which scenes I wanted in there and which could be left out. Once I figured out the other half for this chapter, I had to decide what I wanted to come after that, and that took forever. So now that I know how to continue the next chapter, I can post this with confidence : D For those who are missing the other minor characters I've put in here, they'll have a larger part next chapter.


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